Back when I was really young and really dumb, I did something that to this day makes me shake my head in wonder. We have all done silly things in a classroom, but this was a doozy. I think about it now and my face burns with embarrassment. I am only telling you about this because I still struggle with the same problem. Do we teach or do we manage behavior?

Here is the sad story. It was about ten minutes after I got my teaching certificate and I was working as a substitute teacher. "Working" may be open to question in this case. I was so full of myself that it was horrible. Man, I had all the education philosophy figured out and was ready to change the world. At least, that was the plan until I walked into my first classroom unsupervised. Those little darlings taught me the first lesson every teacher learns the hard way. You can't teach if your class is out of control.

I was supposed to teach a writing lesson that day, and as I started, the kids began their testing. All the usual suspects were there. Instead of managing the behavior, or adjusting the lesson plan, or anything else that made sense, I decided that my job was to teach and handling discipline problems was the job of the administration. So, one by one, as they acted up, I just sent them to the office . . . one after another, until I had sent about six or seven kids to the office. Unfortunately, I am not making this up.

Pretty soon, one of the assistant principals arrived in my room. I have to give him credit for self-control. He did not take me out into the hall and rip my lungs out for being the dumbest teacher that ever walked his halls. Instead, he quietly observed for a few minutes and at a breaking point took me outside and asked if I needed any help. "No," I said confidently, "things are going well." He took a longish breath and then quietly said they were a little worried because I was sending so many kids to the office. Missing his point completely, and with arrogance that still makes me sick to my stomach, I told him that I was there to teach, and I was not going to stop teaching all the kids who wanted to learn in order to manage the few kids who did not want to learn. Naturally, that was the last time I was asked to substitute teach at that school.

I think about that experience as I struggle with the same problems today. I love to teach and continue to dislike managing discipline. But I have learned how quickly one or two unruly kids can blow up your class. I have also learned that most of behavior management is done by having good lesson plans. The art of classroom management is the art of good teaching. Students who are engaged and learning do not disrupt classes. Kids like to learn and our job is figuring out how to help that process. I understand that concept and believe in it. Good teachers have few discipline problems because their students are too busy learning to think about inappropriate behavior.

Despite my faith in that principle, I continue to struggle with the conflict between behavior management and education. These days I teach special education. Many of my students have serious learning and behavior problems. They all have the same right to an education, but they learn in different ways and at different speeds. The issue for me is one of balance. No matter how good my lesson plan may be, one or two of the students will be disruptive due to their disabilities. If the behavior problems are serious enough, teaching stops and behavior management takes over the class.

The question, for me, is ethical, an examination of the principles of right or wrong that govern the conduct of our profession. In public education, we believe every student has a right to an education. But we also believe that no student has the right to disrupt the education process and steal learning from other students. This is most difficult in special education, where certain disabilities easily might involve screaming, inappropriate touching, or other forms of acting out. We study the Individual Education Plans, academic test scores, cognitive test scores and evaluations by a variety of people, but when all the reading and discussion is done, we must place students in classrooms, with or without other students. And that is the point at which this job becomes an ethical problem.

I have grown to love the complex dance of finding how minds work in order to help students learn. I understand their struggle with chemical imbalances, different kinds and speeds of information processing, cognitive limitations and all of the other learning challenges. I am fine working with these issues, but am torn with conflict when one student's need for significant individual attention steals learning from the other ten or twelve students in class. Almost without fail, when one of my students becomes so disruptive that the education process for all of the others is disrupted, I flash back to that day when I sent student after student to the office. The kids in my class enjoyed a more peaceful, more effective learning experience. But the kids I sent to the office only learned about the use of force.

I have had this discussion with my principal many times. She is a skilled, smart woman with 14 years of special education experience. She listens to my arguments with the same patience another administrator had many years ago. She nods her head in understanding. When she thinks I have vented enough, she asks me a simple question. "Where else can they go?" And that is that. Of course she is right. In our public education system, with limited resources, we need to make do with what we have. We need to provide all of the students we possibly can with a place in our classrooms. She knows and I know that sometimes some students will disrupt class. Sometimes a few students will disrupt class often.

That is the job of special education teachers. It is also the job of general education teachers. We open our doors, organize our resources as well as we can, and then we teach. When class gets disrupted, we deal with it, then we teach some more if we can. It is an imperfect system in an imperfect world. My choice is to keep going to work and to keep trying.

But in the back of my mind, there is that nagging question . . .

Published May 5, 2007